“First of all, I want you to notice that this gravel has slipped down from the bluff after the cache was made,” Lisle said to Nasmyth. “With snow on the ground and the slab yonder covered, it would be almost impossible to locate it.” He turned to Jake. “How long would you say it was since the rain or frost brought that small stuff down?”
Jake glanced at the young brushwood growing higher up the slope. It was shorter than that surrounding it, and evidently covered the spot which the mass of débris had laid bare in its descent.
“Part of one summer and all the next,” he answered decidedly.
“Tell us how you figured it out.”
Jake climbed the bank and returned with two or three young branches which he handed to Lisle.
“The thing’s plain enough to you.” He turned toward Nasmyth. “No growth except in the summer—they’d had a few warm months to start them, but they don’t fork until the second year. See these shoots?”
“As winter was beginning when the Gladwyne party came down, that small landslide must have taken place some time before then,” declared Lisle.
They set to work and carefully moved aside the stones. First they uncovered three cans of preserved meat, and then a small flour bag which had rotted and now disclosed a hard and moldy mass inside. There was also another bag which had evidently contained sugar; and a few other things. All examined them in silence, and then sat down grave in face.
“It’s unfortunate that nobody could positively state whether this cache has been opened or not since it was made, but there are a few points to guide us,” said Lisle. “Do you know what kind of food civilized men who’ve been compelled to work to exhaustion on insufficient rations, helped out by a little fish or game, generally long for most?”
“No,” answered Nasmyth, with a feeble attempt at levity. “I’ve now and then remembered with regret the kind of dinner I used to get in England.”